Wilting Rose
by Kitty.M.Smith
Summary: After waking up on Admiral Amelia's ship, the Lyonesse, a troubled young woman becomes acquainted with the crew, including Mr. Arrow's smart ass nephew, rough cockney gunner Minerva, and Lieutenant James Hawkins, a young man that will play more a part in righting her life than either could have ever guessed. Will continue long as reviews are received.
1. Chapter 1

She sank into the wall, forcing herself to breath soundlessly, nearly causing herself to faint. The bangles around her arms and legs clinked against the cool stone. Footsteps pounded the packed dirt. Lantern light illuminated the corner of her hiding place, causing her to inch away, her feet stepping lightly on damp leaves as the crisp air stung in her lungs. The footsteps stopped, right by her alley. She was thankful for her cloak.

"Where'd that rat go?" Asked a man, his voice light.

"I donno." Said a gruff and uneducated one. "She's fast."

The light voiced man growled. "The boss'll kill us if we don't get her."

"What she take anyway that got him sending us out here in the middle of the night? My feet hurt." Complained a third voice. There was a whack and a whimper.

"Shut up!" Said the light voiced man, who was obviously the leader. The young woman inched her way across the alley, gripping the stone on the other side, unaware that one was loose. As her nails dug into the dirt between them, it loosened. Her eyes widened. She stopped breathing. She watched helplessly as the stone fell from it's place, leaving a gaping hole, and crashed to the ground, bouncing and knocking into the opposite wall.

She was blinded by light a second later.

"There she is!"

"GRAB THE BITCH!"

She turned on her heel and booked it down the alleyway, turning to the right at a crossing. The men pounded after her. Her heart thudded with their steps as she skidded around the corner and scrambled forward, feeling a sting in her calf after the boom of a gun going off. She ignored the pain, used to it by now, and kept running. In the dark, she didn't see the wall, and slammed right into it.

"Shit." She muttered as she felt to the ground, slightly dazed. The lights appeared soon after that. She looked up into the scowling and sneering faces of four men, all different heights, builds, and species. One bent by her and roughly grabbed her by her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"Caught you." He said. He was the light toned man. She glared at him and spat at his foot, getting a slap in the face.

"Take 'er, boys." He said, turning to face them. That was all the time she needed. The girl ripped her hand from his and drug her jagged claws across his arm, distracting him long enough to deliver a deadly punch to the face. Thinking quickly, she ran to the wall she'd smacked into earlier and dug her nails into the crevices, thankful for the poorly made walls that were all over this city. Using her agility to her advantage, she was able to climb out of their reach, despite her injury. She landed on her side on the other side of the wall. She looked about before seeing a cluster of barrels to her side. She listened. There were only faint footsteps now. She figured they would come looking for her. Maybe not here, but elsewhere. She decided the barrels were the best idea and opened one, finding it to be full of purps. She dumped it over in the dirt and climbed in, praying they actually didn't come here and settled to wait.

She waited what must have been an hour, staring at the moon through the spaces in the planks. No one. She exhaled in relief and leaned back. She was safe. She took this moment to look at her calf, which was pleading profusely. She touched the wound, wincing at the sting. It would get infected if she dug around with her dirty nails. She decided the best course of action was to rip fabric from her skirt and bind it. After doing this she leaned back, relaxing her tense muscles and doing her best to ignore the pain. It felt like hours before pure exhaustion carried her body off to sleep.

* * *

Her head hurt. Her calf felt...fine. She moved her tongue around in her mouth, noting the cotton ball feel. Slowly, she opened her eyes, letting her vision clear. She was looking at a ceiling. It was finely cut wood. Oak, she guessed. Maybe redwood. She slowly moved her hands, feeling the wool blanket that covered her, the sheet under it. She smacked her lips and turned her head to the side, her eyes widening at the sight of a figure, shrouded in darkness, smoking a pipe while leaning in a chair on two legs. At first, she thought it was a man, but then they smoke.

"You feel alright?" Came the posh accent.

She swallowed dryly. "Better." She croaked. The woman lowered her chair to all four and stood, coming out of the shadows of the dimly lit room. She was tall-though that was aided by her stilettos. The boots traveled up to her thighs, accompanied by tan pants, and a black jacket with gold trim and white gloves. She puffed on her pipe once and then put it out with her thumb, setting it on the bedside table. She kneeled beside the girl, putting a gentle hand on her back and making her sit up. The girl focused on her turquoise eyes, which calmed her. Her auburn hair aided them, making them seem brighter. She flicked on feline ear and handed the girl a glass of water.

"Drink. Then tell me your name." She said.

The girl could do nothing but nod and slowly drink. When she was done, she put the glass on the bedside table, thankful for some relief. "My name is Marilyn." She said, her voice still quiet and weak.

The woman nodded. "My name is Madam Admiral K. Amelia Doppler, and this is my ship, the Lyonesse."

Marilyn's heart jumped to her throat, which she held, aware that her hand was covered in her own blood from tending her wound. "A-A-Admiral?"

Amelia nodded, smiling a bit. "I'm not turning you in, whatever you are."

Marilyn swallowed. She'd heard about this woman. Ruthless, but fair. Kind, yet terrifying. Though, when she'd last heard the name, it'd only been Captain. Admiral was all the more terrifying, but her smile relieved most her worry. "Why am I-"

"Here? That barrel you were in had purps I needed for this voyage. When I came to check over the cargo, I found you. Mr. Hawkins, my lieutenant, fixed up your leg." She nodded to Marilyn's leg. Lifting the blanket, she saw it was now expertly wrapped. "He put a salve on it and gave you a shot. Never took him for a medical man, but, then again, his mother kicks ass in a boxing ring..." She stared off to the side, then blinked and looked at her. "My apologies, I lost myself for a second."

Marilyn chuckled, imagining a little granny up against this woman, who was a picture of physical health.

"Do you think you can walk?" Amelia asked, standing. Marilyn nodded, turning, her feet on the cool, smooth wood of the floor. Amelia held her hand out to assist her. Marilyn looked at the gloved hand, imagining a soft, light skinned hand beneath it. Or light furred. She paused a long time before putting her darker, grime and blood covered hand in hers and letting her lift her up. She was unsteady a moment, but she figured it out soon enough. Her leg was only sore, thank goodness. "W-What-"

"I'm taking you to Mr. Hawkins. He found you, you're his responsibility. And I'd like my bed back, it's getting late." She smiled softly as a blush rose to Marilyn's cheeks. She took Marilyn lightly by the arm and led her out of the room at a slow pace. They entered a stateroom, which was simply yet elegantly decorated with gold and light crème walls. Marilyn stared at the trinkets here or there, and the giant map with various magnifying glasses on it. Amelia chuckled and led her out and down some stairs, into another hall.

She stopped at a door, which looked no different than any other, and knocked. It was soon answered. Marilyn had to refrain from looking like an owl as she stared at him, forcing her eyes to remain their normal size. He had chocolate brown hair, with bangs that framed his face and a ponytail past his shoulder blades, and a soul patch on his chin. His skin was rough, yet soft looking, slightly tanned, and his eyes were a blue that reminded her of beautiful seas. He was in his early to mid twenties as most.

"James." Amelia nodded to him. He nodded back.

"Amelia." He said, his voice deep, mature.

"This is the girl." She let go of Marilyn and nudged her forward. She looked up at Jim, but barely, and smiled shyly. She wasn't interested in a relationship, but she wasn't a woman to deny when a man was handsome. "Her name is Marilyn."

He glanced at her. "Last name?"

Amelia shrugged and looked to Marilyn.

She coughed. "Don't have one." She muttered. She looked at the young man. He cocked his head at her, and held out his hand. "No matter. Jim Hawkins. The cranky broad is Amelia."

Marilyn grinned a bit when Amelia shot Jim a glare. "She told me." She shook his hand. He observed her. She was aware how she looked; dirty, grimy, her hair a rats nest and her clothes covered in all sorts of matter, though they were once beautiful. Deep purple and reds. She glanced at her torn skirt and the smutty feet below them, and subconsciously pulled at her very low cut, layered shirt that tucked into it.

He then smiled at her and turned to Amelia. "You're relieved, Madam."

Amelia slumped her shoulders slightly and rolled them, her joints popping. "Thank god. Thank you, James." She quickly ran off. Jim chuckled, stepping out of his room. He was dressed in a white button up shirt, which was only half buttoned, that was tucked into black pants, which were tucked into knee high black boots. He nodded for Marilyn to follow him, buttoning up his shirt on the way-much to her disappointment-though she did like the gentlemanly manner he went about by doing so.

"She's been up for two days straight." He said, coming to a door and knocking. Marilyn's eyes widened. "Two whole days? How is she even walking?!"

He grinned, opening the door and leading her inside. The room was simple, containing a desk, a bed on either side of the room, and a lamp. A window let her look out at space, which awed her. She'd never been out far enough to see the greens and pinks and blues all swirl together like they were right now. "She has a double shot café lattoid every morning at 7am. And any time between six o'clock and two in the morning. I should know. I was the cabin boy on my first voyage with her."

She smirked. "My condolences." She joked. Though she'd never seen him, everyone had heard of the trip James Hawkins had taken to Treasure Planet.

He only smiled and looked her up and down. "It's late, so I can't get you anything right now, but I'll have our gunner bring you down some clothes. You'll be rooming with her. I believe her name is...Minerva."

Marilyn nodded. "Exotic." She said, sitting down on the bed that didn't have a suitcase under it. She looked at her feet, then back at Jim. "What are you going to do with me?" She looked nervous. Jim shrugged. "Can you work?"

"Yeah."

"Then we'll find a job for you on the ship. Lucky for you Amelia's gotten a soft spot in 'er shell since she popped out a coupla' kids, so she won't throw you off. Even if your a convict. Unless you, like, murdered someone."

Marilyn forced a convincing smile on her face, chuckling at his way of saying Amelia had children. She wasn't surprised, though. She was too gentle to not be a mother. "No just...just a bit of a runaway."

"Bad home life?"

"You...could say that."

Jim shrugged. "I won't pry." He gave her a casual salute. "Sleep well, Miss Marilyn."

She nodded, and he left. She flopped back on the bed, taking in the comfortable mattress and the warm sheets and wool blanket. She wondered why she wasn't in a hammock like most crew would be, but she wasn't complaining. She rolled over, curling the blankets around herself until she was cocooned. Warmer and safer than she ever really had been. She stared out the window and slowly fell asleep, silently wondering how things would go here.

* * *

**Thank you, whoever has read this. Please, please review. If I don't get feedback, I don't feel the need to write. **

**Anyhow, I hope you all like this. This is my first time writing a JimxOC fanfiction, and I hope it is enjoyable. I'm basing this loosely off the storyline for Treasure Planet: Battle at Procyon (a game for PC made pre-movie-release). It's a wonderful game with a immersive story and is a great place to start. I've upped Jim's age, along with Amelia's and the lot (they're younger in the game; Jim is just getting out of the academy). So, well...enjoy! Please, please, I stress reviewing more than anything, though everything else is just as appreciated!**

**Anything not copyrighted to Disney or any other company I place full claim on and give no permission to be used or distributed in any way, shape, or form.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for the lovely reviews!

Anything not copyrighted to Disney is entirely mine and I do not give permission for it to be used in any way, shape, or form.

* * *

Marilyn woke up the next morning and didn't move from her bed. She stared across the room at her roommate. Minerva was her name, if she remembered correctly. She was asleep with her ass in the air and one arm hanging off the side of her bed, her face smushed on her pillow. She snored loudly. Her hair was a mess of raven black wavy locks, same color as her tail, and her fur was medium grey, with white on her hands and feet that made it look like she was wearing gloves and boots. She also had markings under her eyes and over her mouth.

Marilyn slowly got out of the bed, feeling sore but strong. And hungry as hell. She quietly inched towards the door and went out, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light, and then walking above deck. Most of the crew were already going about their business. She immediately saw Jim, who was conversing with a rock-like man who stood at an alarming height. More than a foot taller than Jim, and he was at least six feet tall. She moved away from them and ended up bumping into Amelia.

"Miss Marilyn." She said, blinking. "You're up rather early."

She looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. "I, uh, I'm just kinda, uh, hungry, uh, Madam."

Amelia nodded and smiled understandingly. "Not surprised. I'm assuming your leg is alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Go down to the galley and get some gruel. Then find Minerva and have her give you some more...appropriate clothing." Amelia crinkled her nose slightly as she looked smutty Marilyn up and down before turning on her heel and leaving. Marilyn, though appreciative, scrunched up her face at the thought of eating gruel. The watered down porridge or rice always tasted especially awful to her, though it was awful to begin with. She had to wonder why the crew didn't get something more hearty. She shrugged and mumbled to herself, continuing to the galley anyhow. There was a young man of a reptilian species there, chopping up various ingredients. He glanced her way and grunted.

"Bowls in the cupboard. Drink it."

Marilyn said nothing as she followed his instructions, unhappily drinking the, in her mind, foul semi-liquid. She did admit it warmed her body and made her feel a bit stronger, though. Just as she finished Minerva walked in, her hair a mess and makeup from the night before smudged all over her face.

"This shit again?" She complained upon seeing the gruel. "You're a lazy ass cook, Jeff."

Jeff shrugged. "Well I cook it, so you eat it."

Minerva stared at him. He stared back. She then grabbed a purp and looked at the vat of disgusting gruel and knocked it over with one quick swipe, covering Jeff in it. Marilyn was so startled she dropped her bowl and stared. Minerva watched as Jeff stood there, seemingly in shock. She then smiled, bit into her purp, and walked out. Marilyn didn't hesitate to follow.

"H-Hey! You! Uh, Minerva?" Marilyn hobbled over to her. The young woman turned to her, looking her up and down, feline ears pointed in her direction. "Aye. O' 'e be, lass?"

She cleared her throat. "Marilyn. I-uh, I'm you're, uh, roo-"

"Blimey! Oh yeah, da kid da Admiral brought on. Found yew in a barrel, aye?"

Marilyn blinked, trying to place the accent, and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Gawdon Bennet! Fawmal, aren't you? Names Minerva, friends call me Min." She turned and started towards the stairs that led to the halls again. Marilyn followed her, and they ended up in their room. From her bedside table Minerva took a few pairs of pants and shirts and handed them to Marilyn.

"Lor' luv a duck! Sorry, couldn't find any shoes fer you, but I fnk you'll manage. Since Robby died ov tetanus, Madam 'as been keepin' all da nails an' such fngs in 'er stateroom ter avoid any uvver incidents. Know what I mean?" She handed the clothes to Marilyn, who blinked.

"I'm sorry, but I can scarcely understand you."

Minerva blinked, then grinned. "Lawd above. I guess yer not familiar wiv us cockney folk, are you?, innit."

"...Cockney?"

Marilyn found the word odd and, in the darker depths of her mind, a perverted sort of funny. Minerva nodded, motioning for Marilyn to undress while turning around to give her some privacy while she did so. Marilyn started undressing, making sure to keep her bangles on.

"Lawd above! _David Hockney_. Started in London, or, rarfer, outside ov it. Sort of. The kind I speak, at least. There's me cockney an' "true cockney", spoken by da rubbish inside da city. They say mine's just a whole lot ov jumbled up slang, but we've got aaahr own bloody alphabet so they can shove i' up their asses what they fnk ov it., innit."

She shrugged, turning when she assumed Marilyn was dressed, which she was. She wore a button up blouse and black pants. Minerva then sat her wordlessly on her bed and took out a small knife, cleaning Marilyn's dirt filled nails without asking permission as Marilyn took the time to decipher some of the more un-understandable pieces of Minerva's unfamiliar language. She decided if she chewed three packs of gum at the same time and made up a few words, she might come close to speaking it. Though, by the scars that lightly decorated the woman's arms, and the one across her cheek, she judged saying this out loud, even jokingly, might not end well. She finished cleaning her nails and then, with quick motions, chopped each one so that is had a clean, smooth edge.

"Awright geeezzaa! _Thee_ should take be'er care ov yaaahrself. _Thee_ can take a shaaahr later tonight, it's on da lowest floor. Till then, by da looks ov you, yew should just relax. I'll make sure Madam doesn't 'ry an' push anythin' on yew today. Sorted mate."

That time, Marilyn could understand her. Mostly. She nodded. "I will, thank you."

Minerva just smiled and went over to her side of the room, taking out a makeup case with a small mirror and quickly cleaning up her face and applying some light makeup before getting up and dressing in boots and slacks with a vest over a blue dress shirt. There was the Royal Navy patch on her shoulder, showing her rank as a First Class Rigger.

"Why are you the gunner if your badge says rigger?" She asked. Minerva glanced at it. "I didn't sign up soon enough." Then she began to leave. Marilyn jumped up, clenching her teeth as a sharp pain traveled up her leg.  
"Wait, please, signed up for what?"

She remembered hearing Admiral's handpicked their crews. Unless...

Minerva smiled sympathetically. "Awright geeezzaa .We're at war, dear girl." She then left. Marilyn sat with wide eyes, on her bed, clutching the sheets.

She was on a warship.

* * *

Armed with a towel and Minerva's ration of soap and shampoo-she said she could just coat herself in perfume- Marilyn traveled down to the shower room with an extra pair of clothes. There was only a 8 foot wall separating the girls from the boys. She entered the girls, alone. She turned on the faucet, thankful that she wasn't limited on shower time, either. The water came from space, where it was actually part of the atmosphere. The Etherium was both water and air, letting the ships that traveled its vast expansion seeming to float in air, but in actuality were always on water. It was almost...breathable water, actually. She turned on the faucet and stepped under the stream after undressing, glad for the chilly but refreshing water. She saw the dirt, dust, grime and everything else she'd collected on her body over the past weeks slide off her and into the drain. She made sure to scrub herself near raw, and used every bit of shampoo on her matted hair. By the end of her shower she was clean, her deep olive skin glistening. She sat down, taking a brush Minerva had lent her, and began to take care of her hair.

That's when Jim walked in.

She froze, staring with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, aware of her blatantly bare body. Jim didn't seem to notice the first minute, holding a towel in one hand and his rationed shampoo and soap. He began towards one of the showers. Then, once he did notice, he seemed to turn into a popsicle. His muscles became oddly pronounced and he slowly looked her up and down. She stared.

"What the hell are you doing?" She said. That was all it took to make the young man jump and seem to truly realize what he was doing.

"I-uh-you-I'm s-s-so sorry miss-" His cheeks turned bright red and he booked it out of the room. Marilyn swallowed and gasped, realizing she'd stopped breathing. She quickly finished brushing her hair and threw on her clothes, not paying mind to the fact that her still damp body allowed the white blouse to make her breasts quite visible as she grabs her things and ran straight from the showering room to her room.

* * *

Jim would have skipped his shower if he didn't know his roommate would practically murder him for it. After doing the bare minimum in the realm of scrubbing, he threw on a pair of pants, forgetting the rest in his rush to get back to his room. Once there he threw everything on his bed and fell on top of it, staring at the ceiling. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. If she said anything to Amelia, she'd skin him alive and happily make a coat out of it. He'd just saw a girl-who, he feared, might be a minor-naked and stared at her for at least a full minute. He was either going to hell, or being called to Amelia's stateroom. He wasn't sure which was worse.

He forced himself to slow his panicked breathing when he heard the doorknob turn and saw his roommate walk in. Onyx Arrow was late Mr. Arrow's nephew and his best friend. They'd met in the academy, and Onyx was one year older. Upon graduation Amelia had immediately taken him on as her First Mate. He was also Jim's First Mate when they operated their small ship. The Cragorian bore a close resemblance to his uncle, but striking differences. Hair, for instance. It was black as night and pulled back in a ponytail that reached his shoulders, and he had earrings-something his uncle greatly disapproved of. He'd once told Jim he'd gotten them when he was around sixteen-only a few months before the Treasure Planet voyage, actually-just to piss him off. It was rather amusing.

"Hey Jim." He said, bending to avoid hitting the doorway and tossing his uniform jacket to the side. Measuring a 7'6, a height even remarkable for Cragorian's, Onyx was pure muscle. He could easily pick up a man and throw him a mile if he so wished. He was _not _one you wanted to get angry.

Thankfully, he was the definition of gentle giant.

"Hey." He mumbled. Onyx sat down at the desk that was obviously too small for him and began writing on something. When he noticed his usually over-chatty roommate was silent, he looked over. "The hell happen?"

Jim looked over. "Nothin'."

He saw Onyx's face harden, scrutinizing him, his amber eyes making Jim feel edgy. "You always say nothing when something happened."

"What are you, my mother?"

"Yes. I didn't want you to find out this way, but I am your mother." Said Onyx dully, rolling his eyes and then giving Jim a serious look. Jim sighed, looking back at the ceiling.

"Remember the girl I told you we found? Marilyn?"

Onyx nodded. "Street rat that turned up in a barrel. Dirty as can be and had a bullet in her calf. Looked like a gypsy."

"Somethin' like that, yeah." Jim sighed. "Well, I kinda walked into the woman's section of the shower area and..."

"Oh holy shit, you saw her naked!" Onyx looked shocked and impressed. "I don't condone it, but that's hilarious."

"I-It was hilarious it was embarrassing." Jim flopped around, his voice muffled by his pillow. "I just stood there staring at a naked woman."

"Did she ask you to leave?"

"Well, eventually she said, "what the hell are you doing?" and I kinda just ran."

Onyx stared a moment before slapping his knee and bursting into bodacious laughter. "Oh Lord, that's hilarious! That, that," he turned in his chair to continue writing. "That's just great."

"Shuddup." Jim sighed, face-palming. After that they relaxed, Onyx doing paperwork, Jim lazily staring into space, trying not to blush every time he thought of Marilyn. Then the ship rocked, violently, throwing Onyx from his chair and Jim from his bed, leaving them in askew positions. "What the bloody hell?!" Onyx exclaimed, jumping up with surprising agility for a man of his stature, grabbing his jacket and sprinting out the door. Jim stood and followed him, getting thrown into the wall as the ship jolted to the side. His eyes widened with realization when it came to mind that they were being attacked. He ran back to his room and grabbed his laser rifle, cocking it and then running to the deck.

There Amelia was shouting orders. Bullets flew through the air. Men and women ran about madly, shooting guns, loading cannons, and fighting the pirates that had grappled them.

"Mr. Hawkins! Watch your head and shoot whom you can!" Amelia barked, taking out a pirate with one nasty punch. Jim winced for him before jumping into the middle of combat, shooting down one pirate, then spinning around and clinging his bayonet to another's sword. The pirate sneered. Jim growled and let out a wild man cry that surprised his opponent, running forward and slamming him into the wall. Winded, the pirate fell to the ground. Jim seized his sword and drove him through, then went on to tend to the other fiends.

Halfway through the bloodbath, Jim was tackled to the ground. The pirate lifted his dagger, aiming at Jim's face. He looked at him, pokerfaced, heart racing. He'd been trained to not show emotion, to keep his face stone, so that whomever might strip his life from him might not get as much joy from it. He inhaled deeply, willing all the sounds around him to go away.

He was ready to die.

But the pirate wasn't.

Jim jumped when the pirates limp body fell on top of his. He shoved it back, noticing the fighting was going down. His ship was winning. He looked to the pirate, his breath catching in his throat. His face...there was a gaping hole in it. Burned black as charcoal, all his features gone. It was like a morbid donut. He whirled his head around, catching the eye of Marilyn. He instinctively blushed. She stared at him, fear etched into her face, and then ran away, back to her room, no doubt. He quickly regained himself and through the body overboard, watching it float into oblivion as the sounds of the fighting faded into nothing. Wiping his brow, he looked behind him. Few were injured. Several were dead. The doctors were tending to them. He wasn't needed.

He followed Marilyn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for the reviews!**

**Anything that is not copyrighted to Disney is mine and I give no permission for it to be used or distributed in any way, shape, or form.**

* * *

Jim stopped by his room and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand along his five o'clock shadow and removed his blood soaked vest. He let his hair down, running his fingers through it, trying to calm himself. He put his hair tie around his wrist and changed his shirt after discovering it had a good splattering of blood itself. Then he looked at himself in the mirror and slammed his face into the wall.

Yeah, that was relaxing.

He then made his way to Marilyn's room, knocking on the door when he reached it.

"Bug off." She said.

"No." He refused, knocking again. No answer. He knocked again. And again. Again, again, again, and again. On what was possibly the twentieth knock the door opened suddenly, causing Jim to smack Marilyn in the face.

"Ow! You son of a-"

"Ohmigawd, I'm so sorry!" Jim's hand flew back to rub his neck in embarrassment, but he only succeeded in slapping himself in the face. "Ow!"

Marilyn smirked through her fingers, palm of her hand on her nose. "Well, I was going to do that, but you did it for me."

Jim rubbed his face. "Uh huh. Heh."

"What do you want?" She sounded annoyed and apprehensive as she stood on the balls of her feet, holding the door tightly.

"I wanna know what you did back there." Jim nodded down the hall to the deck. "That...you did something...something not normal."

Fear absorbed her face. Marilyn tried to slam the door shut, only to have Jim lock it with his foot. She stamped on it and reeled back, howling. Jim took this opportunity to slip into the room and shut the door, leaning against it to stop her from leaving or making him leave. Marilyn glared, hobbling to her bed and sitting, her foot hovering over the ground. Jim crossed his muscular arms over his chest, staring down at her. She rubbed her arm and then sighed, tugging on a piece of her long black hair that reached her backside.

"Well?" Jim urged lightly. She looked at him, and then stripped her shirt off.

She was not wearing a bra.

Jim blushed like a buffoon and shielded his eyes. "Look, idiot." She said harshly. "I-um-I-"

"Do it."

Jim swallowed and did so, against most all his morals. He forced himself not to idle too long on any part of her body, focusing mostly on her face. Though, being a man in the room with a shirtless attractive young woman made this very, very, very difficult. He noted that there were several scars and bruises on her body. Marilyn slowly walked toward him until she was within his reach-something that made him have to grip his arms until his knuckles turned white. He'd not been this close to a young woman for a long time, let alone a half naked one.

"Now that I've got your attention," she said, smirking a bit, "I'll show you just what that was."

With that she threw her raven feather black locks over her shoulder and turned her back to Jim. He saw nothing but an ordinary back for a moment. Then her skin started bubbling. He knit his brow. Two straight lines in her upper back, bubbling like a pot of boiling soup, turned red. Crimson, then they stopped, her skin going flat and then looking flaky. Seconds later something started squeezing its way from beneath her skin. Jim felt ill once a pair of bat-like wings sprouted, slowly sliding down the door and to the floor, his eyes not leaving the spot. A tattoo that appeared to be a blackened tree with rotten apples on and around it appeared in between them, covering the whole of Marilyn's back. She then turned back around and stared at him. It was in that moment Jim realized he was trembling and gripped the floorboards in order to stop himself.

"That's what happened." She said, a tone like poison dripping from her tongue. She knelt beside Jim, looking him straight in the eye. "A curse."

"C-c-curse?" Jim stuttered, swallowing tightly. Marilyn sighed and nodded to the wings. "Curse from Madam Mayhem, an old witch woman."

"Why the hell-"

"Let me explain in bulk."

Jim paused and then nodded. She took a deep breath.

"My name is Marilancisa, but I've always gone by Marilyn. I was born to the leaders of a gypsie caravan in Cypris twenty one years ago. When I was five I sprouted these wings and tattoo. It is a curse from my mother's side that was put on her family 1000 years before by Madam Mayhem, a witch woman who left her tribe. My many-many-greats-ago grandmother struck a deal with the witch. In exchange for her first born-so the witch woman could have an apprentice- she would get an elixir that would make her live three times what she would have otherwise. By the time she had a child, my grandmother refused to give it up. Since then the witch put the Devils Soul curse on her and all her female descendants."

Jim stared, wide eyed. "Devils Soul?"

She nodded. "Our souls are evil. Vile. We're doomed to roam whichever planet we die on in eternal unhappiness and depression."

Lovely.

"The wings and tattoo are a constant reminder of our impending doom. Fortunately for us, we can control when they appear and when they don't after age five."

Jim rubbed his face, staring at her. He didn't know what to think of this, exactly. "Can you put your shirt back on?" He asked quietly. She blinked, then gave him a half smile. She retracted her wings and then put her shirt on, tucking it in. "Better?"

Jim nodded silently, bringing up the strength to stand and needlessly dusting himself off. "I...really don't know what to say, Marilyn." He swallowed. "That kinda really sucks."

"No kidding." She gave him a weak smile and sighed. "The curse also gives us the power to control fire, and summon it. Like so." She held up her hand, and a small flame appeared, hovering over her palm.

"And that's what you used to kill the guy that pinned me."

She nodded, extinguishing the flame. Jim cocked his head at her, finding it odd how comfortable he felt with this, yet at the same time un-visibly disturbed. "That's kind of risky to be showing people."

"Yeah." she nodded.

"...My question is, then, why did you use it to save me?"

Marilyn shrugged, blushing a bit as she smiled at him. "You seem worth the risk."

Jim blinked, unsure whether to take this romantically or as a gesture of friendship; though, judging by her rosy cheeks, he was inclined to believe the first. "Well...I can't thank you enough."

She only nodded and then opened the door, gesturing for him to step out, which he did. "You best not tell anyone." She warned.

"I never would." He assured her, getting a smile.

"Good."

And she slammed the door in his face.


End file.
